Eyes For Battle
by ZoNe13
Summary: A civil war can have many stories, but sometimes, a reporter in a Green Earth city can help clarify the way things are seen. AU, DS version.
1. Chapter 1

Eyes for Battle

" **Chance favors the prepared mind." - Louis Pasteur**

That quote, at one point in time, actually didn't mean much. People were prepared for anything and everything from rain, to hail, to even an economic collapse. Unfortunately, the world wasn't prepared for a war. Especially a war that symbolized a new era for the nation of Rubinelle. A civil war. But you probably wonder: 'Who is this person telling us this story? A CO of one of the armies?' No, I'm just your normal, everyday wartime reporter from one of the cities in Green Earth.

* * *

 **Sept. 7** : War. Such a word like that could cause enough trauma and anxiety that Earth would need a therapist. It's hard to believe that this war came from a lack of support in the militaries of Rubinelle. Orange Star having economic problems, Blue Moon endorsing a radical who wants nothing more than an eternal war for public office, Yellow Comet being turned on its head by a rebellion, with all of this, it's amazing that I didn't hide in some fallout shelter somewhere. Unfortunately, that was my undoing. You see, I have a tendency to count my chickens before they hatch, and my big mouth had gotten me in trouble by way of a large package being sent to my apartment. I opened it, and inside was a flak jacket, as well as a case full of disposable cameras and spare film. This only meant one thing: I'm getting shipped out.

"Damn." My only reply was a mere curse. Just what I was hoping not to happen happened. In short, a worst case scenario.

 **Sept. 13** : Nerve Base. A Green Earth F.O.B, or Forward Operating Base located in the middle of the Agartha Desert. You'd think this place would seem lively, but instead, it was quiet, and looked all too much like a prison of some sort. Ironically, it was. When the war between Orange Star and Blue Moon began, Blue Moon needed a place to store their prisoners of war. They picked the Agartha Desert solely because the place was barren, and before anyone knew it, here it was. Anyway, as I got off of the helicopter to hell, I was greeted by the current CO, Sami.

"Welcome to Nerve Base, Mister...?" She said with enthusiasm.

"Vargas, ma'am. Quentin Vargas."

"Nice to meet you, Mister Vargas. I'm the...obvious CO for Green Earth High Command. As you can see, this place wasn't originally a military outpost. It was once a prison for Orange Star personnel. Gratefully, this place was liberated by us, and recommissioned as a base for our ragtag group of soldiers." Sami explained. "Now, if you'll follow me, I'll get you aquainted with your unit."


	2. Chapter 2

Eyes for Battle #2

 **Sept. 13 (Continued):** I walked with the CO of the Green Earth Army, Sami, over to a rundown set of barracks with a wooden sign above it reading "Eagle Company". At first, I thought nothing of the sign, seeing as how military companies have different names for their four-man teams. As we stepped inside the barracks, though, it was a whole other story.

At once, the air in here was fun-loving. Almost jovial, if you could call it that. The people occupying the beds, though, made the real difference. They all had enough tattoos and scars on their body that a doctor back in the civilian hospitals would have a field day fixing up. Even worse was that they seemed like they were about to beat down the strongest man alive, with the feelings of being around them seeming...lethal, even if they were asleep at the time of my arrival.

"Eagle Company, wake up!" Sami yelled, her voice echoing throughout the barracks. One by one, the men of Eagle Company woke up and stretched.

 _For an army that's bent on following orders and always being prepared, this group seems like the antithesis. Great, I sound like a damned therapist._

"Murdoch, Reyes, Kaine, and Kreuger, this is Quentin Vargas." Sami explained. "He's going to be reporting on the war effort with you guys. Try not to treat him too roughly. Mister Vargas, this is Eagle Company."

"I'm Nathan Murdoch, the engineer of Eagle Company. I keep every machine in here running smoothly." Murdoch looked of someone who had more wisdom behind a computer screen than a wrench. He had a grizzled face, with a thick mustache and an arm tattoo that looked like an eye with a plug for an iris. He also had a refined accent, as though he'd been around royalty all of his life.

"Name's Roy Kreuger. I'm the artillery specialist." Kreuger. No matter where I looked around, I felt an air of death around him, as though he would snap your neck just for breathing the wrong way. I was hesitant to shake his hand, but I did anyway. As for his looks...well, most of his body was heavily bandaged up, so I couldn't tell if he was hiding something, or if I was simply delusional.

"Don't mind Kreuger, he's a man of action, not words. Anyway, I'm Ben Kaine, the medic." For a man who looked like even a linebacker couldn't beat him, Kaine's demeanor spoke of an incredibly kindhearted and loyal man. He had no tattoos, but he boasted a scar going perpendicular to his right eye. As much as I wanted to ask about it, I held my curiosity.

"The guy over there cleaning his face is our spymaster, as well as our leader." Murdoch said. As if being called by name, he stopped cleaning his face and walked over.

"I'm Lieutenant Francis Reyes. Nice to meet you, Mister Vargas." He saluted me, then stood at attention. My guess was that he was extremely proud to be serving his country, and as much as I wanted to judge him...I couldn't.

"Please, call me Quentin, Lieutenant." I said, a shy grin on my face.

"Yes sir!" Reyes's resolve to be a god amongst soldiers was entirely unshakeable.

"Well, I'll leave you to get settled, Mister Vargas. Just so you'll know, you'll be exempted from all basic training exercises, as well as any scrutiny from the brass and other troops. All you have to do is your job and nothing more. Though I assume if you want to grab a gun and start shooting, then by all means." Sami then left the barracks, caught sight of something, then yelled "Hey you! Get over here with that C4!"

 _Jeez, what in hell did I get into?_

 **Sept. 17:** Four days. That's amazing, considering I was taking bets with myself on how long I'd last in a desert. At least I got some more information to write about this place. It seems that most of the soldiers in here actually are inmates and criminals given a second chance. If they survive a battle or two, they get time knocked off their sentences, as well as a home in one of the Green Earth cities if their sentences are completely served, and a full pardon for any past crimes. Plus, reporters such as me are held in special regard, because somebody babysits our houses and keeps everything clean and in shape, so the landlords don't assume the apartment is empty. It shocks me that Green Earth has come so far under the leadership of Sami.

But that's not to say that there aren't drawbacks to this process. For example, their criminal soldiers tend to be people with nothing else to lose and everything to gain. They can get off scot-free, and then are free to do what they did before they got here, essentially showing that they learned nothing from the experience.

 **Sept. 19:** All the press personnel (including me) had a meeting in one of the staff boardrooms to find out each other's workplace. It was, what the others had called a "team-building exercise", but I think of it more as "eliminating the competition for the best scoops in the name of profit". So everyone got up on a makeshift podium made from a crate, and said our name, as well as what news organization we work for. In total, there were about five press workers, me included, who were in the base. Three of the four others were from major news channels (read: propaganda machines), and one was from an independent news group. I wasn't planning on remembering any of their names, since chances are they'd all get shot dead just from being in enemy territory, so I just categorized them by their establishments. Man #1: OrPN, or Orange Star Public News. Woman #1: VOK, or Vision of Knowledge. Woman #2: BMNN, or Blue Moon News Network, and Man #2: YKN, or Yellow Comet Networks Ltd. When it came time for me, I stepped to the podium and said my name. That was it. BMNN had asked where I worked, and I told her,

"I don't have a company I work for. I'm completely independent."

This shook the group for a moment. Even the independent news woman was stunned by this. In fact, it was so shocking by their standards that the soldier/press lunchtime turned into what you'd normally see in high school: exclusion and avoidance.

 _I hate my life._


	3. Chapter 3

Eyes For Battle #3

 **Sept. 21:** After the lunch, all the press and reporters went to their barracks to rest. I couldn't, however. I was hoping to know more about why these ex-cons are fighting in a war in which they have nothing to lose, so I walked from the mess hall to the CO's office to chat with her about it. Just as I enter the brightly lit hallway to her office, I see her leaving it. Sami notices me and waves like a giddy schoolgirl.

"So, how's your first week here at Nerve Base, Quentin?" Sami said, still grinning.

"Well, I've pretty much been isolated from my fellow reporters, but other than that, it's pretty well." I said in response.

"Great! Just so you know, the mess hall food here isn't that good in terms of healthiness. It all tastes bland to me." She said. At this point, I had to probe her mind for more information.

"Sami, Does this base have a soundproof room?" I asked.

At that, Sami's face went from happy and carefree to angered. I guess if anyone mentions a soundproof room, she becomes a classic jarhead.

"Right this way." Sami said, clearly tense from seriousness. I followed her silently while she turned from one corner to the next until we reached a dimly lit hallway with a steel blast door. Sami took out a keycard and slid it through the reader until an audible click was heard, then motioned for me to go through. Inside was a conference room with twelve chairs, as well as an electronic board for references and diagrams, with a USB port for computers and other linkable devices. Sami sat down at one end of the large conference table, and a holographic screen popped up which showed my face. I sat down, and another screen showed her.

"So, what did you need to speak to me about?" Sami said, the seriousness of her voice still resonating. The image on the screen mirrored her voice patterns and facial motions, so it was as if she was right in front of me, instead of on the other side of the table.

"I'll just cut right to the chase: Why is it that ex-cons are being used as soldiers, when as soon as they do their time, they'll return to society and will have learned nothing?" I said in my most professional tone of voice.

As I said this, Sami was boring holes into my skull with her eyes, almost as if she saw me as a threat. I couldn't read her, and as a result, I was unprepared for what she said next.

"Quentin, have you heard of Project Excalibur?"

"No." I replied.

"Of course you haven't. It's top secret, only known to specific members of Green Earth. Technically, if this information were to leave this room and fall into enemy hands, I would be branded a traitor for telling you and would be publicly executed, and you would be hunted down and decommissioned."

"Decommissioned?" I asked, unsure of the term's meaning.

"In this sense, it would mean that the information retention centers of your brain would be fried with a targeted shock, which would kill off all memories except for how you walk, talk, eat, sleep, the basics."

 _Seems like Green Earth is very fond of keeping secrets from its people. I'll keep her talking, see what crucial information I can get from her, and make mental notes of it._

"Well, if it's technically against the Green Earth code to reveal this information, why are you telling me?" I said. The answer came quite quickly.

"Simply put, there isn't a war. At least, not yet. But if Project Excalibur comes to fruition, I will be singlehandedly be responsible for the deaths of over three billion people, if not more. That's why I need to tell this to the public." Sami said, her serious voice cracking.

"And you don't want to tell it to those mass media stooges because it will just get covered up or spun into something that's entirely false and makes you into public enemy number one." I said.

Sami nodded, and took a deep breath. All in all, I didn't blame her for being conflicted. She was whistleblowing on her own government, and the very minute her name was mentioned, she, as well as I, would be targeted and erased.

"This is your one chance to turn back from this choice." I said.

Sami paused and stiffened.

"You know that once this story enters my hands, you have no rights to it, right? So are you sure you want to do this?" I explained.

Sami looked down at the ground sullenly, then became enraged and slammed her fist down on the table.

"I have no other option. But, seeing as how you're in my base, I have a job for you." Sami said, giving me a death glare.

It was my turn to stiffen up. "What is it?"

Sami took another deep breath and cracked her neck with frustration. She was furious and determined.

"You will help me shut down Project Excalibur, and in exchange, you won't just have the story, you'll have all the photos and videos you'll ever need to bring it into the light. What do you say?" Sami said with a smirk.

Knowing me, I could have turned her down, but this also affected me, seeing as how I'm affiliated with the one country who's own military is bent on utter annihilation by any means necessary, even if it meant torching over three million innocent people.

"I'm in."


End file.
